Page 20 of Before I Say I Don’t

Chapter Ten

KAMIRA

I cradled my phone in one hand, scrolling through a cascade of emails while the other stirred sugar into my coffee.

That was my comforting morning ritual, a moment of calm before the day began.

Just as I took a satisfying sip, a notification chimed, and I glanced down to see a text message from Roman pop up on the screen.

Roman: Good morning, Miss Sinclair.

I bit back a smile before replying.

Me: Good morning, Mr. Hill. Did you sleep good?

Roman: I dreamed about you, so of course. You?

Me: Did you really? Lol. I tossed a little, but coffee’s about to fix that.

Roman: Yeah, I did. You heading in already?

I glanced down at my robe tied loose at the waist.

Me: Still home… about to leave soon.

Roman: Ahhh. So I caught you before the world did. Lucky me.

Me: Or lucky timing. But what are you doing? What’s got you up this early?

His reply wasn’t words; it was a photo.

Roman was in the gym. He was damp with sweat, and a tee clung to his chest, veins cutting bold lines down his forearms as he gripped a barbell, jaw tight. Behind him, mirrors reflected angles of sweat and strength.

Heat pooled low in me before I could blink it away. I crossed my legs under the counter stool and sipped coffee to cool my mouth.

Me: Okay… not me needing to step my game up before work. Lol. But you look… focused. Strong.

The words were clean, but the hint that I’d hope he’d catch was there.

Roman: I’m focused on this rep and strong enough to lift you if you keep talking like that.

My throat went dry. I tapped the edge of my mug, then set it down.

Me: Don’t start. Lol.

Roman: Who said I was starting? I’m just saying facts. Now send me one… fair exchange.

I froze, staring at my screen.

Did he really just…?

My eyes dropped to my robe again. It was safe and cozy… not meant for anyone’s camera. But the longer I thought about it, the more a reckless whisper pushed back— what’s the harm in one picture? It’s not like I was wearing lingerie—not even close—but still, the act felt dangerous.

My lips curved in a smile I couldn’t stop.

I snapped a picture with the mug in my hand, sunlight catching my collarbone, and my hair still pinned up from sleep. It wasn’t flirty or posed—just me.

Me: Don’t say I never gave you anything.

Roman: Damn, Kam. You call that “just woke up”? You look better than most females do after a whole glam team.

I laughed under my breath, covering my mouth.

Me: Stop it. It’s coffee and good lighting.

Roman: Nah, it’s you. And don’t downplay it. If you were mine, I wouldn’t let you leave the house looking like that. Matter of fact, I’d have you staying home in that robe all day. I wouldn’t even let you leave the bedroom.

My cheeks burned hot, traitor smile tugging. Fingers typed faster than my senses.

Me: Dangerous words for before 9 a.m. Mr. Hill.

Roman: I like danger… especially when it’s wrapped up like that.

Before I could fire back, I heard footsteps.

Viangelo.

I slid my phone face-down on the counter, heart galloping. Then, I sent a quick message under the counter.

Me: Angelo just walked in the kitchen. I’ll call you when I leave.

Roman: Bet. Don’t forget.

I locked the screen, then set the phone face down on the counter, trying to look like a woman sipping coffee instead of one sipping secrets.

“Good morning, baby,” his voice hit my back.

I twisted around in the chair and noticed Viangelo already dressed, but not in a suit and tie. Instead, he had on a crisp white tee, Nike tech shorts, a fresh pair of Jordan 4 “Thunder” releases, and that cologne he only ever wore when he had somebody to impress.

“Um, good morning to you too. You do know today is Friday… right?”

“Yeah. I’m heading out of town for the weekend,” he replied casually, eyes glued to his phone like he was ordering takeout instead of detonating my morning.

My mug froze midair. “I’m sorry—what?”

Viangelo finally looked up. “Quick lil’ bachelor trip.” He shrugged like it was nothing.

I hastily shot up from my seat. “Bachelor trip? Says the same man who swore he wasn’t having one ?!” My voice cracked through the kitchen.

“Last-minute plans with my grooms,” he said, rolling his shoulders. “They brought it up last night. And the best part? I ain’t gotta come outta pocket for shit.”

As if you ever do , I almost spit.

“So it won’t be like I’m tapping into the wedding funds.”

Nigga, the entire wedding is already paid for at this point. No thanks to you . That thought sat on my tongue, sour and heavy, but I bit it back before it could slice him open.

“So what time are you leaving?” I asked, calmly.

“In a few minutes,” he responding, checking his watch like the clock would save him from the conversation. “We’re meeting at Neek’s spot and?—”

“In… in a few minutes? So you decided to tell me this right before you got in the car? Got it!” I nodded.

“Kam, you’re acting like I’m disappearing for a week. It’s two days. Chill.”

“Stop telling me to chill! Every time you say that, all I hear is ‘shut up so I don’t have to be accountable!’”

He rolled his eyes. “Here we go.”

“No… here you go again!”

Viangelo came closer, hands raised like he was calming a child.

“Babe, breathe. We’ll be back Sunday afternoon or evening. Damn. What’s the big deal? You can hang with your girls. Do a spa day?—”

“Stop!” I cut him off, palm in the air like a traffic cop.

“This isn’t about me finding something to do while Daddy’s away!

I’m not twelve, and school didn’t just get canceled!

This is about you making a major decision without telling me until the second you’re walking out the door and acting like that’s normal!

Tell me, Angelo—am I your fiancée, or just a random chick you’re fuckin?

Correction— barely fuck, since you’re rarely here and when you are, you’re too damn tired to even touch me! ”

Viangelo leaned back on the island with his arms folded and eyebrows arched like I’d slapped him.

“Since when did you start talkin’ like that?”

I smirked, sharp and humorless. “Since I realized the only way to get through to you is to speak your first language—bullshit!”

“Damn, Kam. Why you gotta go that hard? You know this trip don’t mean much of nothing. It will just be me and my boys. We’ll just be chillin’, drinking, and laughing. Ain’t nobody thinking about no other bitches or none of that crazy shit probably going through your head.”

“Oh, right,” I said, crossing my arms. “Because men never do anything reckless when they go out of town together. Silly me for thinking the bachelor trip you swore you weren’t having, the one you sprung on me the morning of, might raise a red flag or two!”

“Babe, come on.” Viangelo softened his voice, reaching for me like his hands could erase his lies. “You stressing over nothing. You know you’re the one. I’m marrying you… end of story.”

“End of story?” I barked a humorless laugh.

“Angelo, it’s not the story that worries me; it’s the chapters you sneak in between the ones I’m reading.

You disappear some nights—claiming it’s work-related.

You ‘forget’ major payments! You’ve been treating me like a roommate more than a fiancée, and now this?

And you expect me to just smile and clap because you told me I’m ‘the one?!’”

Viangelo’s jaw flexed, his tone shifting harder. “You’re blowing this out of proportion. You always do that. Damn, I can’t just have fun with my boys?”

“You want fun? Cool. Go have fun. But let me be crystal clear, Angelo—fun stops where my dignity begins. You don’t get to blindside me and then gaslight me for being pissed! That’s not partnership, that’s cowardice.”

For once, Viangelo had no comeback. He just stood there with his mouth open like he was waiting for the right line to fall in.

I shook my head, voice dropping low. “You swear you want to be a husband, but the way you move? You’re still an amateur in a grown man’s league.

Newsflash? Husbands don’t get to pick and choose when to act married.

Either you’re all in, or you’re out. And right now?

You look real comfortable with one foot out. ”

His mouth flattened. “Kamira, you’re doing the most right now.

What?! You want me to say sorry?! Aight!

Sorry, I didn’t tell you sooner… like last night!

Sorry, that work has been crazy ! Sorry, I need a second to breathe before we get married, and everybody’s locked on me like I don’t get to be a person! ”

“Angelo, you get to be a person; you don’t get to be a liar and keep choosing mystery over clarity and call it ‘being a person.’”

“Don’t call me a liar.”

“Then stop talking like one!” I rebutted.

We stared each other down over the island like we were in a tiny courtroom where only two people could fit, and one of them had misplaced their facts.

“ Baby, I don’t want to argue. I’m trying to make sure I get some time with my boys before life changes, and you want to turn it into a trial.”

I stepped forward, closing the distance between us. “If you don’t want it to end up in trial, then maybe you should stop racking up violations.”

Viangelo exhaled deeply. “Look,” he said, his tone mellowing slightly, attempting to calm the charged atmosphere. “ I’ll send you the location if that makes you feel better. I’ll FaceTime from the hotel. Hell, I’ll post stories. Whatever.”

I remained silent, consumed by the internal battle within me. The part that had resolutely stopped making excuses three arguments ago was beginning to drown out all his reassurances .

I’ll text Roman, my brain whispered, unhelpfully loyal to relief.

He’ll tell me quickly if this is real. I kept that thought locked behind my teeth where it belonged.

Viangelo’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He reached for it then glanced at the screen. A flicker of unease crossed his face, but he quickly turned it face-down on the counter.